I'm ambivalent about advice on investing. On the one hand, I don't want to prop up the markets with my money when I'm reluctantly more and more convinced by Marxist feminist arguments that women are materially oppressed through capitalism. (Rather than articulated as heterodox in discourse, as my postmodern leanings suggest.)
On the other hand ... I was on my way to teach once, when a bloke came up and asked if he could have the Money section of my FT Weekend. Now at that time, I never read the Money section, automatically assuming it had nothing in it I would be interested in. I focussed on the How To Spend It magazine. (I adore this magazine because it doesn't have things in it I can afford to buy. I can safely browse through it, saying to myself: "Gosh, diamonds are so unfashionable, what a good thing I haven't got many. This is a pretty feather cocktail dress, mmmm - only £1,785.00!") Still, I resented the fact that the guy took one look at me and articulated me as someone not likely to be checking out how her stocks and shares were doing.
Actually I wanted to go to the beach. It was Piglet who asked if we could go to Duffryn Gardens.
When we first started going, about ten years ago, the house and gardens were just at the start of a major restoration programme. It's been great fun to see how they slowly blossom (ho ho!) with the work that's being done to bring them back to their former glories.
I'm minded to make our trip the subject of a blogpost because the gardens are so family friendly.
